as to make the room tidy for the visitor. It was a
comfortable bed-sitting-room, with the bed in an alcove and a tiny
dressing-room attached. A wood fire burned on the hearth on each side of
which was an armchair. Presently there came a knock at the door. Rogers
opened it and admitted Papadopoulos, who forthwith began to execute his
usual manoeuvres of salutation. Rogers stood staring and open-mouthed
at the apparition. It took all his professional training in
imperturbability to enable him to make a decent exit. This increased my
good humour. I grasped the dwarf's hand.

"My dear Professor, I am delighted to see you. Pray excuse my receiving
you in this unceremonious fashion, and sit down by the fire."

I hastily completed my toilette by stuffing my watch, letter-case, loose
change and handkerchief into my pockets, and took a seat opposite him.

"It is I," said he politely, "who must apologise for this untimely call.
I have wanted to pay my respects to you since I arrived in Algiers, but
till now I have had no opportunity."

"Allow me," said I, "to disembarrass you of your hat."

I took the high-crowned, flat-brimmed thing which he was nursing
somewhat nervously on his knees, and put it on the table. He murmured
that I was "_Sehr aimable_."

"And the charming Monsieur Saupiquet, how is he?" I asked.

He drew out his gilt-embossed pocket-book, and from it extracted an
envelope.

"This," said he, handing it to me, "is the receipt. I have to thank you
again for regulating the debt, as it has enabled me to transact with
Monsieur Saupiquet the business on which I summoned him from Toulon. He
is the most obstinate, pig-headed camel that ever lived, and I believe
he has returned to Toulon in the best of health. No, thank you," he
added, refusing my offer of cigarettes, "I don't smoke. It disturbs
the perfect adjustment of my nerves, and so imperils my gigantic
combinations. It is also distasteful to my cats."

"You must miss them greatly," said I.

He sighed--then his face lit up with inspiration.

"Ah, signor! What would one not sacrifice for an idea, for duty, for
honour, for the happiness of those we love?"

"Those are sentiments, Monsieur Papadopoulos," I remarked, "which do you
infinite credit."

"And, therefore, I express them, sir," he replied, "to show you what
manner of man I am." He paused for a moment; then bending forward, his
hands on his little knees--he was sitting far back in the chair and his